


Washing Washing Washing Thief

by leonheart2012



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cute, Dear Lord I Hope This Is Funny, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Laundry, Nipple Piercings, Sharing Clothes, The chocobros, but that's not important, friends - Freeform, situational humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonheart2012/pseuds/leonheart2012
Summary: Two times Ignis does everyone's laundry and one time Prompto fucks it up.





	Washing Washing Washing Thief

“No, no, no!” Prompto cries as he pulls out items from his bag, none of them a shirt. Ignis sighs and takes it upon himself to ask the youngest member of their team what the matter is. “All my shirts are dirty!” He explains with a pout, turning around to let them all see his bare chest, his nipples, surprisingly, pierced.

Gladio digs one out of his bag and drapes it over Prompto’s lanky frame, the material almost going down to his knees. “There. That’ll do until we’ve had a chance to wash them all, right, Ig?”

“Right.” He turns and, without paying any more attention to the whining blonde, starts to pack away camp. He feels he has a good reason to be angry; after all, it'll be him doing all the washing anyway.

Clothes litter the bathroom floor, and Ignis scowls at the offending items, gathering them all up and taking them to the laundry room in the basement of the hotel.

When he gets back, Prompto is staring at the place where all his clothes had been, dressed only in underwear, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“They were _all_ your clothes?” Ignis asks with a sigh, and Prompto turns those same bewildered eyes to him, shaking his head.

“Thome wew Noc’s.” He says around the toothbrush, making Ignis grimace. “Thowy.” He steps gingerly into the bathroom as if the clothes are still there, just invisible, and spits into the sink. “So were’d they all go?”

“I’m washing them.”

Prompto groans. “They were the only clean pair I had left.”

“Clean? Prompto, they were _disgusting_.”

The younger man whines and looks down at his mostly-naked body. “But what am I going to wear today?”

“You’re around Noctis’ size, aren’t you?”

As if summoned, Noctis walks into the room. “What’re we talking about?” He asks after a huge yawn and stretch.

“We’re talking about Prompto borrowing some of your-” Ignis stops when he sees the state of Noctis’ clothes. “Never mind.” He stalks over to Noctis’ bag, empties it out onto his bed, gathers all the clothes in his arms and then waits for Noctis to give him the clothes he’s wearing before taking it all down to the laundry.

When he comes back, both Prompto and Noctis are hiding under the covers, their dirty underwear resting at the foot of their beds. Ignis closes the door and Prompto whimpers, curling into an even tighter ball. He sighs and gathers the rest of Prompto's dirty clothes and then carts them down, too.

“Alright.” He says upon his return. “We’ve got to earn enough money to pay for another night here while your clothes dry, which means going on a hunt or two, which means you two-” He uses the emphasis of his words to turn down the covers and expose them both to the morning air, causing them both to shriek and grasp at their crotches to preserve their dignity- “are going to have to get out of bed.”

The two naked young men blush and make excuses, but of course Prompto is the first to find the only possible solution and ask to wear Ignis’ clothes. It takes a belt and a lot of tucking, but eventually Prompto looks like an Ignis impersonator, minus the glasses. Noctis asks next, and then they trudge very uncomfortably down the stairs to find Gladio reading in the diner, ready to go.

He looks up from his book and bursts out laughing, much to Prompto and Noctis’ displeasure, and they both glare and growl at him until his amusement has settled.

“Right. Off you all go.” Ignis says, and all three of them gape at him. “Well, I can hardly wash your clothes if I’m out with you three, can I?” He explains, and Prompto flushes.

“Sorry, Iggy. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Just do your own washing next time.” Ignis says exasperatedly, shooing them off again, turning on his heel and going back to the basement, settling in for a long day of chores.

Prompto sniffles and looks around at the empty terrain. To the north is a beautiful, peaceful, completely undisturbed lake, where Prompto had washed the clothes just hours earlier. To the east is a pack of Garula, feasting quietly on the grass. To the south is a set of gently rolling hills and the washing line Prompto had set up. To the west is the road and a stand of trees. He whips around in a circle again, almost losing his footing, as he searches for who or what could have possibly stolen all their clothes.

He looks about ready to break down into tears, and Ignis almost feels like comforting him. Almost. Because the _one time_ he trusts Prompto to do something other than shoot straight, he messes it up. And one of his favourite shirts was among those lost. So instead, he just helps Prompto look.

They investigate the Garula, but without getting too close, it’s impossible to tell whether they were the culprits or not. They look out at the water, but if the fabric has sunk to the bottom of the lake, they’re never going to get them back anyway. They search in the direction the wind was blowing, but no luck. They just have to accept that about a third of all their clothes have vanished.

Prompto is openly sobbing by the time they return to the campsite, but none of them feel particularly inclined to comfort him. Finally, Gladio is the one to pull Prompto into a one-armed hug and inform him that they’ll restock on clothes the next time they get to Lestallum, but even he looks put-out.

They all go to sleep a little further apart than usual, Prompto taking the furthest end of the tent where he usually cuddles in the middle, Ignis on the opposite side to him, still very upset, Gladio taking up most of the middle ground while Noctis gets as close as he dares to his best friend.

Two days later, as they’re passing through town, they encounter a young woman wearing a button-up that looks suspiciously like Ignis’ favourite lost shirt. They shake it off as a coincidence until they see a young boy running around with a shirt made of the same material as one of Prompto’s tank tops. They turn around, and there’s a man wearing Gladio’s most treasured pair of jeans, and a woman walking next to him with Noctis’ coat wrapped around her shoulders.

They all turn to Ignis, because if he’s going to ask for his property back, they all are, but he just sighs, shakes his head, and returns to the Regalia, driving onward.


End file.
